


Where Nobody Hides

by rabbitxheart



Series: Sterek Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, post-S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbitxheart/pseuds/rabbitxheart
Summary: give me stiles receiving a text with an address and the words 'in the fuse box of the loft', going there and finding the keys to the camaro





	Where Nobody Hides

**Author's Note:**

> From a ranting tumblr post that I ended up using as a prompt in a desperate attempt of a fixit, but never published because the 6b trailer gave us the boys back <3 
> 
> For Kels, because I love them and it's kinda cool how small the planet is sometimes.

Stiles tries to call. Several times over several days, actually, but Derek never picks up the phone. So instead he finds himself sitting by the overlook, phone in hand and messages open. The texts between them are all hours and dates, wordless communication about supernatural problems and gatherings. The last text is almost two years old, a last meeting before leaving for Mexico.

 

**_To: Derek_ ** _  
_ _Hey. Wanted to tell you over the phone, but you’re still not picking up. Peter lost it again and totalled my car with Scott in it, we had to call the Calaveras. He’s gone for real this time._

He pauses, takes a sip from his water bottle. Contemplates the wording.

**_To: Derek_ _  
_ ** _I really am sorry. If I can help, send you his stuff or something, just let me know_ . _We have an attic that could fit some, too. Stay safe._

Stiles downs the last of his water, then slowly makes his way back home on Scott’s old bike, a temporary solution to a problem he doesn’t really afford to fix for another month or three.

 

It takes a week, but in the middle of his afternoon shift in the police station reception, his phone chimes.

**_From: Derek_ ** _  
_ _Key’s in the fuse box at the loft. The one with the cat keychain. The storages near Main. Text me when you’re there._

Stiles chuckles a little at the thought of Peter having a spare key with a cat on it, then pockets his phone. He has a lot more files to sort through before his shift is over.

 

It’s late in the evening when he makes his way to the loft, using the key Derek gave them for emergencies to get in. If Stiles has been using it to sleep from time to time, Derek doesn’t need to know. He tries to make up for it by taking care of it in case he ever were to come back.

“Gotcha,” Stiles murmurs to himself, pulling the key bundle out of the fuse box, the only place he’s never had any excuse to be. He expected a house key too but it’s just a storage key, some smaller ones and an unmarked spare car key that looks worn to say the least.

 

By the time he reaches Main it’s almost midnight, just dropping by to see how much help he’ll need to move whatever’s in the admittedly pretty big storage.

It only contains two things, though; a box labelled _clothes_ with what he knows is Laura’s handwriting and… Well.

“Jesus,” Stiles sighs, approaching the Camaro like he’s afraid it’ll spring to life. Then he looks down at the key, and realizes the car key was probably Laura’s. He almost drops it- the feeling he’s snooping somewhere Derek doesn’t want him to snoop is nearly as strong as when he wormed his way to the files about the fire. “Jesus Christ, Derek.”

He decides to text Derek the very same, and he’s just gotten into the car when his phone chimes.

**_From: Derek_ _  
_ ** _There’s a prepaid car wash card and a fuel card in the glove compartment if you need it. Treat her well and she’ll treat you well back._

**_To: Derek_ _  
_ ** _Dude, are you sure about this?_

**_From: Derek_ _  
_ ** _:)_

Stiles makes a noise somewhere between incredulous and amused, then puts his phone on the passenger seat.

The Camaro roars to life, purring under Stiles’ hands the way he always imagined it did under Derek’s. Something catches his attention, thrown in the backseat, and Stiles does a double take before reaching back for it. It’s not the jacket Derek wore most days, but the older one, bullet hole still in the left arm, clean but still not patched up. Touching it feels odd, like it’s something tying him to Derek despite his absence. So Stiles slides it on, finding it just the right size. It surprises him a bit, but then on the other hand he’s older than 16. Things change.

It’s surprisingly warm, just enough to keep the goosebumps from Stiles’ arms as he rolls the windows down, and when he pulls out from the parking lot he feels freer than he has since Scott was bitten.

As he moves towards Highway 99 he imagines Derek taking the same roads out of Beacon Hills, leaving for something better, and for all that he misses him, he’s glad Derek got out, found his way towards something better than the shitshows Beacon Hills pulled him into every time he’s been back.

 

It takes hours before Stiles turns back around.

  


“Stiles?” His father says hesitantly, voice almost down to a whisper as he knocks on his bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, come in,” Stiles says, pushing up from the bed a bit. He got home just a while ago, somewhere between flying on adrenaline and passing out cold still.

“I thought Derek was here,” he says, nodding to the leather jacket draped over his computer chair. “Car’s out front.”

“Oh. That. Well, no.” He points to the keys on the desk. “I get to borrow it. I think he feels bad about the Jeep.”

“Well, that’s a problem solved for now, at least,” he says with a nod. “Just keep in mind it’s not yours. No using it for pack problems. You do _not_ have the money to repair or replace that car.”

“Yeah, of course,” Stiles nods. Besides, the Beacon Hills boil has calmed down to a bare simmer. Sometimes something surfaces, but it’s never bad and it rarely lasts long.

“I’m heading to bed. Sweet dreams.”

“You too, dad,” Stiles mumbles. He slips back under the covers and tries not to overanalyze how okay his dad seemed to be with the idea of Derek being in Stiles’ bedroom this early in the morning.

 

He wakes up to a text with coordinates.

**_To: Derek_ **

_Millerton Lake?_

**_From: Derek_ **

_Just trust me on this one_ , Derek writes.

Stiles shrugs on a t-shirt and some jeans, pockets the keys and heads out the door and toward the gas station.

 

“Did I just drive by you refueling Derek’s car?” Scott opens with before Stiles even has had time to say hi, shutting the fuel lid with his hip.

“It’s… Not entirely impossible,” Stiles says, looking around. “Wait, are you calling me while driving the bike?!”

“Werewolf with a headset. Hang on, I’ll be right there,” Scott says and hangs up before Stiles can say anything else.

 

Just a few moments later he comes driving the same way Stiles did, pulling up next to the car.

 

“He’s here?” Scott says, looking toward the station. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“No, he, um. I told him. About Peter. Mentioned the jeep.”

“Oh.” Scott looks a little disappointed. It’s adorable.

“Yeah. So I get to drive his car for now, I guess.”

“That’s nice of him,” Scott hums, checking his phone quickly before tucking it into his jacket again. “You working tomorrow?”

“No, I got off last night. I was just going for a drive.” A four hour drive in total, but that’s not something Scott needs to know.

“Lydia says to pick her up at four, we’re going for burgers and then to the drive-in.”

“You told her about the car,” Stiles says with a small chuckle.

“It looks good on you. As does the jacket,” Scott says with a knowing grin. Stiles elects to ignore it.

“It was colder outside than I thought,” Stiles says, heading toward the register to pay. "Tell her I’ll make her pay for the cleaning if she spills anything in it!"

“Will do!” Scott says and speeds off.

 

 

It’s beautiful.

It takes a while to find his way to the proper coordinates, but boy is it worth it. There are a few kids still on the sand below the hill Derek directed him to, a few boats on the water, but other than that it’s calm and serene and almost unbelievably safe in a way he still doesn’t feel in Beacon Hills. It’s odd to think that it’s barely two hours away.

Stiles takes a picture a few hours later of the sun setting and sends it to Derek.

**_To: Derek_ ** _  
_ _It’s amazing. I think I needed some air to breathe. Thank you._

**_From: Derek  
_ ** _We used to go there when Laura had just gotten her license. I’d sneak off sometimes when I was still in Beacon Hills._

Stiles barely has time to think of an answer before his phone chimes again.

**_From: Derek_ ** _  
_ _I know you keep up appearances more than people might think. I also know you need some room to breathe sometimes. It’s the best physical breathing room I know._

He can’t help it. He really can’t. Probably wouldn’t have even if he could. Maybe he’s reading too much into it, maybe he’s not, but it’s obvious to anyone who’s bothered to look that something’s been quietly simmering in him since even way before Scott was bitten. There were thoughts for a while that Derek might be going through something similar, Stiles’ shitty self-esteem tripping him up whenever they got too persistent. Of course he wouldn’t.

Except here Stiles is, driving Derek’s beloved dead sister’s beloved car to where they’d go as teens because Derek somehow knew Stiles needed to shake of the dust and the blood and the death.

Stiles has felt it, hasn’t said it. But he can’t help it.

**_To: Derek  
_ ** _Man, I really miss you. Thank you for sharing this with me. Stay safe, wherever you are._

 

 

He doesn’t always go back. But every once in awhile, when things get a bit too tough or when he misses Derek too much, he’ll go. He always sends a picture of people playing in the sand below and then of the sunset a few hours later, right before he leaves. If it brightens Derek’s day just a fraction of how it brightens his, it’s worth it.

 

 

It’s on one of these days, wind in his hair and a bag of candy next to him, sun not quite setting yet but the air slowly cooling, that Derek finds Stiles on the small piece of land overlooking Millerton Lake that’s slowly turned into a sanctuary for him. Stiles doesn’t see him coming, but he hears familiar footfalls behind him, and has a hard time keeping himself from smiling as Derek sits down on the grass.

“Your arms are longer than mine,” Derek says in lieu of hello. He almost looks a little startled, but by the fact or his own mention of it, Stiles doesn’t know.

“What?” Stiles laughs. Derek’s wearing jeans and a soft cardigan Stiles vaguely remembers seeing in a bag in the loft, but never saw him wear. His hair is a little longer, as is his beard. It takes all of his restraint to not hug the living daylights out of him.

“The jacket. The sleeves go down to my knuckles.” Derek sets down a backpack and a thermos.

“Sorry bout that,” Stiles says. “I fixed the bullet hole and I keep forgetting to put my own jacket in the car.”

“It’s alright,” Derek says calmly. “You look good.”

“Gee, thanks,” Stiles says and feigns embarrassment, hoping Derek won’t notice the truth behind it.

“I meant you look happier,” Derek rolls his eyes, and Stiles just smiles helplessly. “But you look good, too,” he adds head tilted down, but not enough for Stiles not to see him smiling back.

“I’ve been driving a lot. Makes me feel less trapped, I guess,” Stiles answers, unsure how to respond.

“Good,” Derek looks up, and oh. That light, fluttery feeling in his stomach is definitely something Stiles has missed.

“What have you been up to? Studying, working..?”

“Both, in a way. I’m a librarian.”

“Really?” Stiles says.

“Really,” Derek nods. “Well, it’s a bookshop, but it has a hidden library with rarer, more… supernatural literature. That’s my department. It’s slow, but the business is steady and the clients are good people, so.”

“That sounds nice,” Stiles smiles. “Here to fix Peter’s things?”

“Yeah, Cora dropped me off here on her way back to her LA apartment,” Derek nods. “I’m not staying,” he says, looking out over the water and the sky slowly changing its colours.

“You shouldn’t,” Stiles nods, even if a part of him is bitter about it. “It’s not good for you.”

“You, too,” Derek says sincerely. “I think getting out of here will do you good.” Stiles gives him a look, holds out the bag of candy. “Had some legal stuff to fix with Peter’s case, dropped by the station,” he explains, stealing a Skittle or two from Stiles’ bag. “GWU’s good. One of the girls working the store on weekends is a linguistics major.”

“You live in DC?” Stiles has to _shove_ candy into his mouth to not say anything embarrassing, but he can't keep himself from grinning anyway. 

“Small house just outside. Commuting distance,” he says lightly. “If you need a tour guide.”

“You’ll get tired of me,” Stiles says lightly, not believing it in the slightest.

“We’ve known eachother how many years, now? If I _could_ get tired of you it would already have happened,” Derek says with a shrug, face passive, but Stiles knows him well enough to read him anyway.

“I can’t believe we survived long enough to actually get to know eachother,” Stiles says, and Derek chuckles.

“Haven’t we both technically died multiple times?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. Let’s not do that again,” Stiles says and throws a jelly bean at him. Derek infuriatingly enough catches it with his mouth with zero effort. “I mean, nobody I'd rather stick it out with, but I think we could do with some peace,” Stiles adds.

“We’ve both seen some bad stuff, stuff we didn’t think we’d see the other end of. I was so sure I was damaged beyond repair that I didn’t even want to know if maybe there was something, but… We’re still here.” Derek says, fingers brushing Stiles’ in the grass, and Stiles’ entire body stops and restarts in the space of a heartbeat. “Tell me I’m reading this wrong and I’ll go back to DC and we’ll pretend today didn’t happen.”

“Or,” Stiles says, looking down at their hands. It’s the first time they’ve touched in over a year, and Stiles can’t help but properly entwine their fingers. “I could tell you you’re right. We could go to DC, stop pretending this hasn’t been a long time coming. Roadtrip?”

“Roadtrip,” Derek agrees, reaching over to press a soft kiss right at the corner of Stiles' mouth.


End file.
